And yet, something took me down these forgotten halls during my search for Ezryn.
Sure enough, he kneels beneath the Shrine of the Queen, a stone statue of a faceless woman, one hand extended to the sky, the other to the earth.
It used to be common practice to spend quiet moments of meditation in the Sanctum, to offer gratitude for the joys in one’s life or to shed one’s worries into the void. Though the Queen created the Vale, she also abandoned it five hundred years ago. My thanks and concerns are no better heard by the Queen than they are by that slab of stone carved in her memory.
It’s a simple room, the Sanctum, small and almost cramped compared to the other sprawling chambers of Castletree. The walls and floor are made of wood, the ceiling lush with branches filled with green leaves and hanging ivy. It would be considered beautiful if it weren’t for the briars and bits of rubble.
Four giant stained-glass windows let in a stream of multicolor light. The rain has finally passed.
I kneel beside Ezryn, bowing my head before the statue.
Ezryn quirks his helm toward me. “You don’t have to join me. I know how you feel about the Queen.”
“I haven’t seen you in here in decades. Maybe you’ve remembered something I’ve forgotten.”
“Unfortunately, no.” Ezryn sits on his heels. The light from the stained glass paints his armor in red, blue, yellow, green, and purple. I find myself drawn to the swirling colors. It’s not often I get to see Ezryn bathed in light. “The Queen is as silent as ever,” he continues.
“And why is it now that you’ve come for her wisdom after all these years?” I raise a brow.
Ezryn stands and turns away from me. “I am leaving for Spring tomorrow.”
I knew this decision was coming. Ezryn hasn’t had word from his father, Prince Thalionor, the steward, in months. Neither Thalionor nor Ezryn’s brother attended Princess Niamh’s funeral.
Yet, still, I see how it weighs on him. I understand.
For men like us, looking into the past is a far harder thing than running blindly into the future.
I stand and place my hand on his shoulder. Blue light plays across my knuckles. “I understand. Wish your father well for me. I would travel with you if I did not need to return to Winter.”
Ezryn looks over his shoulder, catching me in the dark gaze of his visor. “How long will you be gone?”
“We funneled a great amount of magic into Castletree. It should remain strong for several weeks, at least. That should be enough time—”
“Keldarion,” Ezryn growls, “how long will you be gone?”
I drop my hand. Damn this fae. My inner thoughts could very well be an unraveled scroll for him. I can’t meet his gaze, so I stare at the Queen’s stone face instead. “I’ve given Eirik Vargsaxa temporary leadership in the interim while I secure a permanent solution. After Perth’s betrayal, I know I must leave Frostfang’s rule in the hands of someone completely trustworthy.”
“Perhaps a steward is no longer needed,” Ezryn offers quietly. “If you were to break your curse—”
“That is not an option.” The mere thought of it sends the blood rushing through my veins.
Since the moment that fated woman entered Castletree, the Enchantress’s magic has been more than a curse. It has been a torment, an endless suffering where my every breath is a battle between agony and the few weak moments where I give in to her.
Rosalina.
The fae disguised within a human’s body. My vision of the stone statue blurs.I understand why our fates are so. But hers?
I had thought her mating with Farron would ease some of the guilt in my chest. But instead, it’s only worsened my suffering. How easy, how simple, it is for him to take her in his arms, to breathe in her scent, to promise her he will stay by her side.
And how hard it is for me to fight back every instinct.
To complicate the matter, the princeling is now the mate of my mate. I’ve always held a deep affection for Farron, but now he is another heart I must protect at all costs.
The tangled web my bargain put me in will ensnare them, too.
Unless I do something.
“So, you are returning to Frostfang, then?” Ezryn asks.
